


Love God herself

by edourado



Series: Hell's Kitchen Chronicles [10]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hell's Kitchen Cronicles, Romance, Smut, drunk Matt, edourado, karedevil - Freeform, smutish actualy, tumblr original
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6913789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edourado/pseuds/edourado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a pretty big leap, going from planning a quiet weekend in to finding herself with a lap full of Matt Murdock</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love God herself

**Author's Note:**

> This got long. And smuttier. But it was not my fault. I'll explain later.  
> I got you 13 pages of Karedevil. Get me a comment, please ;-)

When Karen got home on Friday, she had a goal in mind and a plan on how to achieve it: relax. 

Ever since… Well, forever, it seemed, she was always going. So rare were the times where she could just do nothing, walk around, sit and read, watch crappy TV, sleep for more hours than the bare minimum. 

There was the incident, New York, Union Allied, Nelson & Murdock (even if they were busy busy busy and broke broke broke, they managed to have fun, most of the time. But it was also very stressful), the other incident with Wes-, Mrs. Cardenas, Ben, Grotto, Frank, Matt, getting shot at, twice, and then Daredevil and it was too much. A sequence of events and she’s just so tired. Physically tired and emotionally drained.

Karen just needs some quiet. Some peace and quiet so her mind can rest and her body can follow the lead, hopefully.

So that was part one of the plan: not follow any new leads. She just wrapped two pieces in a row at the Bulletin. An article on corporate corruption and a story on all the dirty and greedy politics behind hospital administration, and she was ready to just be a vegetable for at least 24 hours. 

It was a pretty big leap, going from planning a quiet weekend in to finding herself with a lap full of Matt Murdock on Saturday, his back to her chest, head resting just under her shoulder, temple against the side of her chin, arms cradling each of her legs to him, big hands running from her knees to her feet, slowly, while her own fingers went through his hair. 

And she felt fine.

The world was still pretty much a mess outside and it was still waiting for her, it’s claws and it’s guns out. Waiting for both of them. 

But, right now, it would wait. 

Back on Thursday, even Frank told her she should take it easy. Frank Castle. The Punisher. Big bad executioner who walked around killing bad guys between cups of bitter coffee. 

“You getting enough rest?” he asked, while she stole a sip from his cup. 

Karen had looked at him, the lights from the city below - since they always seemed to meet either in greasy diners or rooftops - casting odd shadows around his face. 

“Why?” she asked. 

“You look tired.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He offered her one of those half-chuckles, half-growls and took his coffee back from her. 

“You know what I mean. You work too much.”

“So do you.”

He looked at her like he was telling her to shut up and she stared back. 

“You should get some sleep, before you pass out on the street and I have to pick your ass up.”

And, well, he wasn’t wrong. 

So, that Friday, when she walked into her apartment and locked the door behind her - all the seven locks of it, thanks to Frank’s work, Ellison’s and Foggy’s advice and even Matt’s - both lawyer and Daredevil mode - plea, once upon a time, before they stopped talking altogether - she did something she hadn’t done in a while: put music on.

Karen ate her dinner while flipping through a fashion magazine, even then avoiding the most serious articles. None of that this weekend. For now, she wanted to read about clothes she couldn’t afford, make up she didn’t need to buy and travel destinations she could only ever dream of. 

She sang in the shower, for the first time in forever. Washed her hair and rubbed exfoliating cream on her skin, forced herself to relax, wooshed away any dark thought. 

By the time she got into her pajamas and climbed on the couch to watch the silliest thing she could find on TV, she already felt better. Still tired, but not as heavy. She found herself laughing at the rerun of some 90’s sitcom before she fell asleep, only to wake up when her phone buzzed with a text from Foggy, at almost one in the morning.

“Jru kaeem”.

Keren rubbed her eyes and opened the text to read it again. 

Before she could wonder too much if it was a pocket text - as unlikely as that sounded - he was calling. 

“Foggy?”

“Hey! Hey, K.”

Oh. Karen rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth already pulling up. She was only K when he was drunk. 

“What’s up, Fog?”

“Hey, listen, you ok?”

She chuckled. 

“I’m fine, how are you?”

“I’m good. Great. I was just at Matt’s.”

She was awake, now.

Foggy and Matt weren’t talking the last time she checked, and she hated it. She understood, since she was also still not in normal terms with him herself, but she hated it. 

“Oh. Were you?”

“Yep.”

“And… How was it?”

“Weird. But then it was ok. We got booze.”

She smiled. 

“I can tell.”

“We talked, a lot, and I think- I think we’re gonna be ok.”

“That’s great, Foggy.”

“Listen. He misses you.”

Kares felt herself freeze for a second, before she took a deep, silent breath. 

“He misses us, the three of us. But he fucking misses you.”

She swallowed. And she shouldn’t ask, because she wasn’t a teenager, but-

“Did he say anything?”

“Yeah”, he hiccuped. “Not at first, tried to avoid your name. But then, you know, we drank and he got chatty. Point is, he misses you.”

Karen looked up and sighed, as if looking for strength, guidance, an answer from heaven, or her ceiling. 

“I know you guys are not exactly the best of pals right now, and I know he told you about… The whole shit, and I know it’s a hard pill to swallow, but I just thought you should know.”

She smiled again, small as it was. 

“Thanks, Foggy.”

He seemed to take a deep breath. 

“Anyway. I had to leave, because Marci called and I’m already drunker than I should be and-”

“Right, right, ok, I get the picture.”

“Right. Oh, taxi! Shit, it’s cold as fuck. Anyway, K, you do with that information what you will. I just thought you should know.” He said, sweetly and drunkenly, and she heard him opening the door to the cab he had hailed. 

“Ok. Thanks, Foggy. Are we up for lunch on Monday?”

“Sure thing. Bye, K”, and then he must have pressed a random button on his touch screen, thinking he had hung up. “Take me to Marci’s.”

“Sure. Where exactly is that?”

“Her apartment.”

“Do you have an address, pal?”

Karen hung up, smiling, when she heard him providing the address.

Putting her own phone down, she sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. Getting up and opening the dresser drawer where she had hidden the frame from herself, she retrieved that St. Patrick’s Day photo of the three of them and looked at it for a few seconds before saying “shit”, and taking some clean jeans and a shirt out. 

Twenty minutes later, she was climbing the stairs towards Matt’s loft, her nose freezing from the cold wind, hands tucked deep in her coat pockets, scarf tight around her neck, her plan of relaxing and letting real life outside for the weekend forgotten. 

Karen was busy trying to come up with a non committing explanation as to why she was there before she knocked on the door, when she was suddenly worried. 

The door was unlocked. It was barely closed, just touching the latch.

Looking up, she pushed it open slowly, afraid of what she might find. 

What she did find was Matt, dressed in sweatpants, lying on his couch, asleep, a bottle of scotch sitting on the floor next to his hand. 

Karen breathed the words “Oh God” when she looked at him. 

She had never seen him without his shirt. And while he cut quite a figure, the scars scattered around his chest made her want to cry. He was purple over his ribs, on the left side, and a fresh set of stitches decorated his right bicep. As usual, there was a cut on his cheek and one over his left eyebrow. She had seen him take the punch that left his chin a sickly color, now hidden by his scruff, but still distinguishable. It was two weeks earlier and one of the occasions where she met him, dressed as his super alter ego, during one sleepless night of work around Hell’s Kitchen. 

Turning back around and walking to close the door, Karen turned the key once and hung her coat, scarf and purse on the hooks on the hall. Walking back towards him, she took a steadying breath and kneeled on the floor, by his head, sitting on her own feet and moving the bottle to the coffee table. 

“Matt”, she whispered, almost afraid. 

He didn’t open his eyes, but turned his head towards her a bit, adjusting his body on the couch.

God. She missed his stupid face. His stupid, handsome, sweet, bruised, vigilante face and she wanted to touch him.

So she did. Carefully, she raised her hand and cradled his face in it, gently, and watched him take a big breath, leaning into her touch.

“Karen”, he said in his sleep. 

She found herself mute, just sitting there on his floor, suddenly so relieved to be there, looking at him. 

Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his temple in a soft kiss, but one that lingered.

When she moved away, she saw his eyes opening, and his hand raising to hers, turning his head towards her. 

“Karen?”

“Hey”, she breathed out, her voice, apparently, gone. 

He squeezed her wrist and raised his other hand, bringing it to her own face, in that way he liked to do.

“What are y- When did you- I thought…”

“I, uh, I was worried. Haven’t heard from you in a while, thought I would… check on you.”

His eyes fixed on her chin and then he smiled, drunk and sweet and still so handsome. 

“Foggy called you?”

She sighed, smiling, too. 

“Yeah. I didn’t want to tell on him.”

He turned around on his side, towards her, clutching her hand, wincing when his wounds hurt, until he settled, lying with his head on a throw pillow. 

“I thought I was dreaming.”

She smiled, small, and he smiled back, and Karen still had to get used to the fact that he could not see her, per se, but he could sense her with his other… abilities. 

“It’s true, you know”, he ran his thumb on her face and Karen felt warm, like she did all those times, before she knew about his vigilante ways, when he got close, closer that just a colleague would, closer than a friend might.

“What’s that?”

“What he told you. You really are.”

She had to smile at the drunk expression on his face, the way his eyes took a while to open again each time he blinked and how he was speaking slower in order not to slur. 

“What am I?”

He shrugged and tightened his hand around her wrist, the one on her face going to her hair. 

“The most beautiful thing I have in my life.”

He said it as if she already knew that and he was just confirming. And it sounded like a line but it affected her anyway. 

“You are. And I fucked up so bad. I miss you like crazy, but I know you’re mad at me.”

Her hand was running through his hair, now, and she definitely felt like crying, because it was not supposed to be this difficult, not with him. Matt was this guy, this excellent guy, who was sweet and handsome and good and she always felt safe with him, she always felt good around him, there was always that feeling inside her, like a motor running, ready to propel her towards something amazing, with him. And then he was Daredevil, and nothing made sense but at the same time everything-

“I miss your voice”, he was saying and his fist closed around the hair on the nape of her neck, not too tight, but it did and she felt shivers and he was breathing a little harder. “You know? When you’re- when you’re on the phone or when you’re talking to me.”

His hand brought her face closer to his and his lips landed just in front of her ear, her own hand descending from his hair to his chest and God, how did she manage to go so long without-

“I keep thinking about kissing you.”

He smelled strongly of alcohol. Which was not exactly pleasant, but the feeling of him, so close again, the familiar sensation of being close to him drowned the rest. That motor was running again and maybe it never stopped, maybe she just got really good at ignoring it.

“Do you remember, when I kissed you on your front steps?”

Karen let out a laugh, because well, yes. She remembered every moment of it. 

“Yes.”

“I keep- I keep thinking about that. And how I wanna do that again, but I can’t.”

His mouth opened on her ear and his teeth closed around it and the shivers that ran down her spine were enough to make her muscles work and lift her from the floor and lie down in front of him on the couch. 

She was not used to him being so agile. The moment her body touched the couch, his hand let go of her hair, the one that still held her left wrist lifted it, linking their fingers together over her head. His left hand went to her hip and pulled her under him while he maneuvered himself to almost hover over her, touching, but not really sinking his body on hers. 

Her right hand lifted to his face again, and he moved from her ear, down her jaw, to her neck and the V of her shirt, biting on fabric and lifting back up to touch his nose to hers and Karen was pressing her lips together not to moan. 

Suddenly, he opened his mouth on her neck, just under the spot where her jaw met her ear and Karen arched her chest towards his, listening to his breathing come out laboured and, honestly, she felt quite good about herself. 

“I love it when you feel like this”, he said, whispered, both hands on her hair now, fists pulling slightly, his forearms and knees holding him off her. “With me.”

“Feel like what?” Her own hands were on his back, feeling skin and lean, hard muscle. 

“When your heart is racing, you’re full of dopamine and you’re shivering, because of me.”

Karen would feel embarrassed that he could always sense when that was happening, every single time, since the first time it did, if she wasn’t so busy enjoying said feeling so much. 

She wanted to say something; She felt like she should, instead of just being there, lying under him, feeling his muscles under his skin and her hands while he caressed her hair and angled her head so he could breathe and run his lips on the skin of her neck.

Before she said anything, though, she took a hand to his face, caressing sweetly enough to reassure him before she started talking. 

“I am still mad at you. And we do need to talk, a lot. I still have a lot of questions.”

His forehead came to rest against hers while he listened. 

“But that doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you, too.”

He started melting, then. Became slightly heavier on top of her. 

“It was true when I said it the first time, and it’s true now.”

The first time being at Christmas, when he told her about being Daredevil. She had said that she missed him, everyday, but she had to think about this whole deal. 

She knew he had lost the Elektra woman. Knew that they dated in college and that she had come back and they had nothing like that this time. He had explained on a different occasion, as Matt, while they walked from the coffee place where they liked to get breakfast to the subway, and she noticed he didn’t really need the cane to walk around. After that day, thinking about her feelings for him didn’t make her angry at herself anymore, like she was being stupid for falling for a guy who liked to sleep around just as much as the next jerk. It hurt for other reasons, but not for that one. 

So she had allowed herself to think about his kisses, just a bit more. 

“I like feeling like this for you, too.”

The breath he let out as an answer rumbled deep within her. Some kind of tortured moan that made her bite her lower lip while he sneaked an arm under her and pulled her up to him by her waist. And then he was lowering his face again, that mouth of his running from her face, barely ghosting over her lips before he reached her neck and went lower. Suddenly he was raising her shirt to place a slow kiss on the skin by her belly button, higher, under her ribs, one just under the seam of her bra and one above it. 

One of Karen’s legs were curled around his, the other rising and bending at the knee by his hip, making sure he stayed there on top of her (not that he was trying to leave). Her hands descended from his hair to his face, where he turned to kiss her left palm while her right hand lowered to his arm, where she met the stitches with her fingers. 

“What was this for?” the question left her before she could ponder to ask it or not.

He chuckled. 

“That was Frank, actually.”

That gave her pause. 

“Frank? Frank Castle Frank?”

She almost said “My Frank?”, but managed to hold it back in time. And, anyway, that was a topic for later conversation. Later. Maybe.

“Yeah”, Matt said, lowering himself again, a bit further this time, somehow, and she had to adjust herself against him and son of a bitch, he feels so good. “He didn’t really mean to do it, I kinda got in the way of his knife.”

“God, are you two running around together beating people up at night?” she asked, eyes closed while one of his hands lifted her knee just so and the other almost closed around her throat, but didn’t and went first down and then up, his mouth looking for a spot, he couldn’t decide where, but he kept searching. 

“No. We do it separately.”

Karen opened her eyes. Is he joking? She’s not sure she’s quite ready to joke about the fact that he was Daredevil yet. 

“I’m going to say something, and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way. Ok?” He asked, full on lying on top of her, now, catching her hands in his, lacing their fingers together. 

“I’d be careful.”

He chuckled and she felt it on her neck, where his breath touched and lingered, and on her chest, where it echoed from his own.

“You taste like coconut.”

Karen let out a breath, thinking about the coconut body cream she tired a week ago, rolling her eyes and her hips. 

“Are you trying to sweet talk me into not being mad at you anymore?”

“No. Not completely. Maybe a little. But I know I shouldn’t. Is it working?”

Yes was the immediate answer, the physical answer. But he had lied so much. Had screwed everything up for them so majorly. Saved her life, yes. Saved a bunch of people, yes. Was, actually, trying to do something good, yes. But he hurt her a lot in the process. 

“What else do I taste like?”

“Oh, shit, Karen, don’t ask me that”, was his answer, and his mouth was on her ear. Turning her head, she ran her own mouth on the side of his face, the two day beard scratching her lips a little and she was surprised at how welcome that sensation was. “I wish I wasn’t drunk.”

“I’m kinda glad you are.”

Liquid courage for two, neat.

“What else?” 

His left hand let go of her right one and went to her chin, turning her face to his, and she could see his eyes on some spot on her cheek, probably on her hair, or even the floor. But she knew he was focusing on her mouth. 

And, like all those other times, he leaned his face to hers, but this time he nibbled on her lip before kissing her, the tip of his tongue soothing it quickly. 

And then. 

There she was again. Putty. While he ran his tongue against hers, slowly, but intensely, in a kiss that shook her to her core, the weight and the urgency of it, all the meaning behind the way he kissed her, how he kissed her back to him. 

In a precise move Karen would not expect from anyone, let alone blind, sweet Matt, she found herself, suddenly, sitting up with her legs around his hips, the fingers of his left hand hooking on one of the belt loops of her jeans while the right guided her face to his by her neck, his mouth open and exploring hers, that voice she was so used in hearing on legal arguments on court and on jokes with her and Foggy, that sometimes flirted, sometimes whispered, now moaning inside her mouth, kissing her with an abandon they didn’t have time for before. 

It was more than the kiss on her front steps, more than the quick pecks they stole while they worked, so much more than that first one, where they searched and wondered and held back. 

This was more. More intense, more passionate, more open, more sexual and, now that she knew all sides of him, more honest.

While he kissed her, so eager, Karen let her mind wander. It was Matt, there, under her, between her legs and against her chest. Matt, but also the man in the mask, that she had watched fight with her attacker in the rain all those months ago. Also Daredevil, who she would catch herself thinking about before, wondering if he remembered her, sometimes dreaming of him, just like this, with her. They were all him, here, Matt, her Matt, and he had his hands on her back, under her shirt, and she took her mouth from him a bit, throwing her head back, eyes closed, feeling everything, his skin under her fingers, his mouth on her neck, his hand splayed on her back and the other raising her shirt, his breathing hard, he was there, she was there, with him, like she wanted for so long, like she imagined so often, like all those times she cut the thought from her mind, after she found that woman in his bed. 

She found a woman in his bed. He had explained, she had been hurt, and now she died, but she had been important to him, once upon a time, and even now, while they kissed and flirted and walked slowly, painfully slowly towards, and then fast away from each other. 

Her hands found his shoulders and she was about to push herself away from him, because that was something she was still trying to wrap her head around, when he bit the skin of her neck and raised the hem of her shirt, trying to take it off her. 

“Coffee”, he said while she lifted her arms so he could pull the white cotton shirt off and throw it far, with more force than necessary. It hit the glass and slid to the window pane, silently. “And pie. Apple.”

She had rehearsed what she was going to say to him, about that Elektra woman, if the occasion ever presented itself. The questions she was going to ask and the way she was going to weigh his answers. 

What she failed to plan was this situation. This scenario where she was slowly melting in his arms while he ran his fingers and his tongue around her skin, looking for the tastes of her. Karen did not see that coming at all. 

“Wine,” he breathed, fingers digging on the skin of her waist, bringing her hips closer, getting a moan out of her. “I only like wine when I taste it on you.”

Oh, God, make him stop saying stuff like that. 

She felt his hair under and around her fingers and realized she was pulling his face from her, angling it up to hers. 

“What do you taste like?”

Oh, but he was handsome, with unseeing eyes cast down, where his hands were, on her belly, rising, teasing, his lips right there for hers when he dropped his head on the back of the couch. 

“Like you, I hope.”

“Already?” she asked, smirking, rotating her hips, watching him roll his eyes up and his mouth open before he closed them, inhaling sharply and thrusting his own hips up, causing goosebumps to raise all over her. 

“Still.”

Her own skin crawling with sensation, Karen bit on her lower lip, sliding one of her hands from his hair to his face, slowing down on his neck and stopping on his chest, moving forward so her mouth hovered over his, almost giving in when he angled his face up, requesting. 

“That’s very unlikely,” she said, surprised by her own voice and how it came out in a breath, without any strength, accusing all the things she was feeling, how much she was enjoying being there perched on top of him while his fingers ran on the seams of her bra, the skin of his chest warm under her own hands. 

Matt hummed and raised his back from the couch, attaching one of his hands on the base of her neck, catching hair around his fingers, guiding her mouth back to his, slowly, intensely, not softly at all and she moaned when his tongue found hers again, her own arms hugging him to her. 

Karen reached down his back, planting her her nails on his skin and dragged her hand back up, tasting the scotch on his tongue. 

Grunting, he pressed her hips down to his again, his right hand unfastening her jeans and lowering her zipper before pulling her hips up from him, urging her to stand up in front of him while he pulled her pants down, fingers pressing on skin while his mouth landed on her belly, biting on flesh while she stepped out of them. 

She thought about taking a step back, saying something to make him squirm a bit, maybe turn around and make him follow her to his bedroom, or asking again about how she tasted. 

Before she could reach a decision, he was pulling her closer to him, bending one of her knees and supporting it on the couch while he slid down to kneel on the floor, left hand pulling her underwear down. 

For a few minutes - maybe hours, many hours - Karen gasped and tried not to lose the strength on the knee that kept her standing while Matt proved he didn't need his eyes to read her. He brought her up, up, up, gasping, moaning, holding on to his head, shivering with every move of his tongue. 

She was not sure if he was doing it on purpose or not, given his current state of alcohol induced inebriation. But every time she would start going dizzy and her hands would start shaking, the strength of her threatening to leave, he would slow down, leave a kiss on the inner part of her thigh, even bite on it, giving her enough time to calm down, for her breathing to slow back to almost normal, for her vision to clear up. And, when she was sure she was not going to fall down, there he was again and Karen's skin was crawling, her entire body awake in violent shivers and flames of cold and hot fire running up and down her spine, making her sweat through the goosebumps. 

When her right hand tightened around the one he kept on her belly and the left ran through his hair one more time and she tried to call his name and tell him not to stop, this time, she was right there, right there, he did something, she could not for the life of her figure out what, but he did something that made her vision go dark on the edges, the world spin faster and her voice come in a groan, almost a whisper, so contrary to the scream she thought she was letting out. 

When he rose, mouth guiding him up her body, she was doing her best to stand upright. The hand he still held in his was placed on his shoulder while he reached behind her to undo the hooks of her bra, coming to hum on her ear the things that were going on with her body, but she could not pay attention to the words, just the voice. 

Next thing she knew, her back was hitting the mattress of his bed and she had her fingers linked with his over her head, so she used her feet to get rid of his sweatpants and, this time, she could hear her own voice when he made her call out for him, his name like a prayer on her lips, or when he made her tell him if she liked it, what she wanted. He moved within her and Karen moved around him and they moved together while he swore she was beautiful, promised she was everything, vowed to worship and chanted her name. 

She went to sleep hours later, with her head on his pillow, legs tangled with his and his hand on her back, running his fingers from her neck to the base of her spine, the sky outside a little clearer, a lighter shade of blue, soft sheets resting over and under them. 

"Stay with me", he asked in a whisper, moving the tip of his nose against hers, pulling her closer. 

He was already asleep when she raised her hand to run her fingers on his face. 

Mindful of his hypersensitive senses, she refrained from saying out loud what was already running in her mind even before she had a chance to better think about it.

"Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> So in the middle of the night Matt decided he wanted to go down on Karen and I had to turn my computer on and write it. It wasn’t my fault.


End file.
